


Coming Home

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Dinner, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: Leia comes home after a long, tough week. Han is waiting for her.For the April 2020 HanLeia Challenge prompt "home."
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40
Collections: HanLeia Challenge





	Coming Home

The ceremonial clothing she wore for official events always felt like armor, protecting the person Leia from the public Leia, safe behind the garb of a diplomatic warrior. It had felt that way since she was a very young girl, and put on her first court dress; she was suddenly very aware of her responsibility and position, and how she should comport herself. It protected her true feelings, her worries. 

Most of her formal attire was actually quite comfortable--Alderaan had been a practical place, afterall, and her everyday ceremonial robes were usually flowing and, though well-tailored, relaxed and easy to move about in. Even her shoes were usually practical, a bootie or a flat. She’d accepted her height, and found an extra few inches purchased at the expense of daily comfort a poor tradeoff; there were enough beings of varying height throughout the galaxy that it hardly mattered where she fell on the human height spectrum. 

Yet she still shed all of it as soon as she returned home each day. It felt like shedding the weight of the galaxy she was still helping to rebuild, as each bracelet returned to the jewelry box and each boot went back onto the shoe rack and the zipper eased down the back of her dress. She rarely even said anything beyond “hello” to Han before she made a beeline for her dressing room, depositing a pile of datapads in her office as she passed by. 

She’d emerge five minutes later wearing one of Han’s old shirts, a pair of soft, worn leggings, and the vicunga-fleece slippers he’d gotten her last year, so warm that even on board ships her feet stayed comfortable. Neither the interior floors nor the stone of their balcony was anywhere near as cold as deep space, so it was merely with great comfort that she joined Han out in the fading light, settling down on the lounger next to him. 

His arm was around her immediately, settling her in close to him, while handing her a glass of wine with the other. She took it with a grateful smile, then sipped the crisp white appreciatively. Since they’d moved in last month, this was slowly becoming an end-of-week routine for them. 

“Thank you.” She took another sip of the wine, then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, calling on the meditation exercises she’d learned from Luke.

“Rough day?” He rarely asked for details, which she appreciated, merely about her feelings. 

With a sigh, she turned her head a bit to look up at him, and catch the edge of his jaw with a light kiss. “Long week. Coming home to this is nice, though.” It was a massive understatement--there were meetings where knowing she would be coming home to this was all that kept her going. He knew how massive an understatement it was, too, as practiced fingers pressed into the knots at the base of her neck. She closed her eyes again and let her head drop, let his fingers work. 

His lips brushed her temple, but it was light, brief. “Think we made the right choice now?”

Finding the right place had been a struggle--it had been a long time since he lived anywhere other than the Falcon, and she had never lived anywhere other than a palace or a military installation. Trying to find a home that suited them both, when neither had any idea what they truly wanted or needed, had led to a row of near-Hoth proportions, and two nights of Han sleeping alone on the Falcon, before he’d come to their--her--temporary quarters, offering chocolate and a compromise.

She had, of course, laughed uproariously at his “compromise” suggestion of allowing Chewie to pick their new quarters. But they’d settled on this place, and moved in two weeks later. It still felt a little too big to him, and, he knew, a little too modern to her, even three months on.

With a hum, Leia nodded and smiled at him, feeling more at ease than she had at any point since walking in the door. “I love this terrace. I love coming home to this.”

“It was the one thing we agreed on from the start,” he said as he pulled her closer, but she held herself back at bit and looked up at him.

“I”m fairly certain we also agreed on the massive shower and sonics system in the fresher.” 

“You were sold at that tub. I’m still worried you’re going to drown in there”

“I can swim better than you can!” She poked him lightly in the chest, smiling. “Besides, I hardly get to use it.”

“You wanna take a bath now?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She shook her head, and repositioned herself so she was facing him, almost straddling his lap. “I’m perfectly happy on the terrace this evening. Are we dining out here, too?”

His grin was wicked, as his hands skimmed down her sides to rest on her hips, pulling her fractionally closer. “I wouldn’t mind eating out here.”

“It’s been a long day. I am rather...hungry.” 

“Well then, may I suggest--”

Any suggestion he might have had was cut off by a loud pulsing buzzer from the kitchen. It echoed angrily through the apartment and out onto the terrace. She raised a brow at him, as he looked a bit chagrined, and shifted her off of him.

“Dinner.” The man somehow managed to look apologetic about having dinner ready, with perfect timing, after a long week for both of them. She merely smiled at him, and waved him towards the kitchen. “Gimme a few, I’ll bring it out.”

It was only a few minutes before he remerged, precariously balancing plates and utensils. Meeting him halfway, she took the napkins and silverware, and settled it all on the table just before he sat two still-steaming plates down for them.

“Your dinner, your highness.” The quirk of his lips held only affection, no mockery, as he sat down with her.

They ate in silence for a several minutes, enjoying the meal, before she took a thoughtful sip of wine.

“You know, if you’re serious about stepping down from your commission, you could always open a restaurant. No one would believe your cooking skills.”

His snort of an answer, accompanied with a shake of the head, dismissed her suggestion.

“You are an excellent cook, Han.” She rested her fork on the side of the plate, now focused on him rather than the meal.

“I learned because I had to, to feed myself. It ain’t fancy restaurant food.”

“But it is good food, comfort food. It tastes like home.”

He raised a brow at her. “I doubt you had cottage pie growing up in the palace.”

The fork clinked against the dish, and she bit her lower lip, considering her words. “It’s been so many years since I lived in a palace. Another lifetime.”

He remained quiet as she fumbled for the right words.

“Everyone else still expects me to be that princess. The woman I fell back to being on Hoth, because I didn’t know how to be anything else. And officially, to a large extent, I have to be, someone separate, removed, a figurehead.”

“You’re not just--” he started to protest, but a wave of her hand stopped him, and he nodded for her to continue.

“I am to many. Most. I have to be. But not here, never with you. Coming home to you, I can shed all of that. You let me be who I am, who I  _ want _ to be.”

There was a heavy pause, as she glanced between his intense gaze and the skyline and the meal. But eventually he caught his hand in hers, and leaned forward to brush his lips across her knuckles, one of the more courtly gestures she’d ever seen from him. “You can always be whoever you want to be with me.”

She finally smiled then, bright and true, even if there were hints of inexplicable tears in the corners of her eyes. “I know. Thank you for that. And for dinner.”

He smiled, too, with no hint of tears, only joy, and raised his pint towards her. “To coming home.”

Their glasses met with a soft clink, and they each took a sip of their respective beverages, before easing back into their meal. They sat relaxing together on the terrace long after they were finished eating, enjoying their drinks and watching the sun set.


End file.
